Bad Boy
by Dr Who Fax
Summary: LOOSELY based on Cascada's song Bad Boy. Max has just been dumped, she goes to a bar for some rebound loving. No lemon. Very OOC, I was bored, okay? AU, R&R.


**I know this isn't the story I told you I'd write, but I'm working on it! Damn projects in bio. But I haven't posted in weeks so here's a oneshot. Loosely** **based on Cascada's song **_**Bad Boy, **_**Maximum Ride version! Yes!**

**Disclaimer: Seriously? Do I even have to? I don't own MR, though one can wish.**

**Max's POV**

I downed a shot and scanned the bar hungrily. It had been a long night. I felt my phone buzz in my pocket. Pulling it out, the Douche's face filled my screen, a small text bubble over his face indicating he sent me another text.

_That message wasn't meant for you, Max, I'm sorry._ That douche. I sent back a cheery _Fuck off_ before turning the annoying thing off. No more distractions tonight.

_Flashback_

_He smiled at me sweetly, his bright eyes sincere. "I promise, Max, I'll always stay by your side," he swore. "I love you." I kissed him sweetly on his lips. He kissed back hard, pulling me closer._

"_Mm," I say, pulling away. "You taste good, like cherries?" He chuckled and leaned in for another kiss._

I later learned it was cherry lip gloss on his lips. That lying piece of _mierda (_shit). I smiled to myself, covering it up by gulping another shot down. Gotcha. Twenty feet away, sitting at a table, was a dark-haired, tanned guy. He and his pale, blonde friend were checking out girls, the dark one talking quietly. Even from here, I could see Blondie was either blind or really, really drunk.

I tossed a few bills on the bar for the overworked bartender, who winked at me, making my way over towards Darkie. As I got closer, I could make out the muscles under his tight black V-neck, and he was taller than I had thought, his long legs clad in black jeans under the table.

"Girl headed this way, short black dress, halter top, nice rack, dirty blonde hair, just enough makeup," Darkie was saying to Blondie. By the way Blondie was grinning in my direction, I could guess he wasn't drunk, but blind. I made sure to sway my hips a bit as I got closer. Darkie was checking me out, unashamed.

"Hey, I'm Max," I said, pulling up a chair. Blondie gave me a charming smile.

"Hi there. I'm Iggy, this is Fang," Blondie introduced me sweetly. I detected the slight slur in his voice, indicating this wasn't his first drink tonight. I grinned. Suddenly, another flashback filled my vision.

Flashback, hijo de puta

_I stared blankly at the overflowing trash can, used tissues spilling out, all soaked with the tears I had shed over the last two weeks. I hadn't left my room since my boyfriend of one and a half years broke up with me. Dumped me is a better term, since he didn't show any emotion doing it, coldly saying how I was nothing without him, how weak I was._

_Weak. That was what I was, sobbing my broken heart out. His words wouldn't have been true one and a half years ago. One and a half years ago, I was Maximum Ride, the martial arts master. Maximum Ride, the girl who single-handedly taken care of her two younger siblings when their parents had died. Maximum Ride, the indestructible, the undeterred, the invincible, the role model of thousands of young girls. Maximum Ride who had taken down Dr. Batchelder's secret lab and saved thousands of young children and experiments. Maximum Ride who never gave having a boyfriend a second thought._

_But that was one and a half years ago. Before I was handed an award by the charming, handsome, smooth-talking, and surprisingly single Dylan Gunther-Hagen, only son of Nobel Prize-winning scientist Dr. Hans Gunther-Hagen. Before Dylan had swept me off my feet with grand, loving gestures. Before he tore my heart out and stomped it in the dirt._

_Now what am I? Nothing. My phone buzzed with the arrival of a text. Probably one of my many friends who had been trying to cheer her up and get her out of her room for days. I made the fatal mistake of glancing at the lit-up screen. His model-worthy face was filling the screen, smiling, his arm slung around my shoulders. My heart wrenched at the sight, a sob desperate to claw it's way out of my raw throat. The little green speech bubble encased the black text. I picked up my phone, hoping, praying he changed his mind. But no, what was this? This message wasn't even addressed to her._

"_sam, you owe me $5K. i did it. i broke the maximum ride."_

_End Flashback, hijo de puta (__**that means motherf-er, according to google translate. it literally means son of a whore, though. There. Now you can say you learned something from reading these.)**_

"Uh, Max? Are you okay?" Dar- Fang, I mean, asked, concerned. I nodded and grabbed the collar of his leather jacket (honestly, why was he even wearing it? It's like, 90 degrees in here) and pulled him close.

"You, me, my house. Now. What say you?" Fang gulped, his eyes going wide. Iggy's eyes, however, looked like they were about to pop out of his head.

A long moment later, Iggy started laughing. It started out as a chuckle, then erupted into him holding his sides, tear rolling down his pale face. "You-you're-you're slayin' 'em, Fangy," Iggy gasped out, his face flushed. Fang's face was bright red, which truthfully didn't look very good on him, since he was wearing a black jacket, black jeans, and a black T.

"Uhhhhh," was Fang's intelligent answer. I released his jacket and leaned back, crossing my arms over my chest.

"I'm not a whore, I don't usually do this," I said by way of explanation. "I just need someone tonight. Tonight only, and then I never want to see you again. Again, what say you, Fang?"

Fang blinked stupidly. Iggy whacked him upside the head. I don't know how he did it so accurately, since from here, I was sure he was blind. And the fact he stared blankly at my forehead when I spoke. Pretty sure he wasn't doing that on purpose.

"Dude, she wants to fuck you!" Iggy exclaimed. Fang seemed to snapped out of his stupor and stared at me in amazement.

"You do?" he asked dumbly. I rolled my eyes.

"Is he always like this, Ig?" I turned towards the blind, somewhat drunk young man next to Fang. Iggy whacked Fang again, who growled and whacked Iggy back.

"Look, Dylan and I broke up, and I wanna move on. This will help. Now do you wanna, or not? I'm sure a lot of other guys here-" I started to say, a little pissed. Fang cut me off, holding his hands in the STOP gesture.

"Whoa, wait. You're Maximum Ride. Gunther-Hagen's girl." I bristled. Was that what I'd become? I used to be a role model, I used to be great. Now I was just "Gunther-Hagen's girl"? Oh, _hell _no.

"I am not his _anything!_" I snarled, slamming my hands on the table. Iggy flinched, Fang winced slightly. I let out a breath, calming myself. "Gods, I just need a drink or something. I'm sorry I lashed out." Iggy kindly ordered me another drink.

"I'll do it." Fang stood up and in one smooth motion, tossed Iggy some keys. "Get your own ride home." Iggy winked and mumbled something that sounded like "get some", but I'm not sure. I pulled Fang towards my car, which was very expensive, thanks to me being awesomely famous.

"Remember, this is for one night, and one night only," I reminded him. Fang nodded.

"Then you never want to see me again, gotcha." He climbed into the passenger seat.

**_Fin. _BOOM. DONE. Oneshot complete! Crappy, I know, and so OOC. :P Fo firetruck yourself if you've got a problem, k? ~Hellisa**


End file.
